Leaves in the Wind
by gracedkelly
Summary: Based on a drabble prompt by tumblr user bellamyblake. After her struggle with Emmerson and opening the airlock again, Bellamy is the only one that doesn't wake up. /BELLARKE/
_Hi guys!_

 _This is my first Bellarke or the 100 drabble ever, and I'm not that happy with it. Nevertheless I still wanted to share it with you and hear your thoughts._

 _Hope you enjoy it!_

 _Love,_

 _Kelly_

 **Leaves in the Wind**

Clarke remembered the devastation she felt when her father got floated. The immense weight of the Ark pressing down upon her heart, plummeting it to Earth, to the ground. It seems like eons ago now, but the feeling hit her again.

Emmerson was rolling on the floor, clutching his head in pain. His moans of agony would haunt her later, she was sure, and his face would join the others in her nightmares. Clarke hit the button to open the airlock with a loud, final smack and crashed on the floor as she stared at the others, desperate for a sign of life. Any sign. Her eyes passed over each of her friends, past Octavia and Monty and rested on one single form.

She remembered an old passage from the Illiad, a book her father once read to her when she was little. She'd still been dreaming of fresh air and the smell of pine forests back then.

 _What are the children of men, but as leaves that drop at the wind's breath?_

While the others had dropped before, they were slowly waking up in fresh air's embrace, save one.

He wasn't breathing.

Clarke's body hurt from her earlier struggle with Emmerson, who lay dead and forgotten behind her, but her aches seemed incomparable to the final tear in her soul that might be her undoing.

Not him, she thought, I can't handle this. Not again. Never again.

Bellamy Blake was hers in every way that mattered. Their souls were equal and enhanced each other's best traits and suppressed their worst. Her enemy turned friend was who she depended on most now, the one she trusted to get her through this. Once Clarke had wished to breathe real air, but the only air she felt she needed now was Bellamy. And he was all out.

She was Wanheda, the Commander of Death, and she refused to let this pass. She _refused_ to give him up.

The sound of his name echoed in her skull, in the airlock, as Clarke reached his body on all fours and started giving him CPR like her mother had taught her. She was a wrecked ship, her heart lost at sea as it abused her ribs.

Please, she prayed and bent down. Clarke tilted his head in the proper position and tried not to lose it. Her lips touched his, which were a lot softer than she had imagined before, and she blew air into his lungs. To no avail.

"Come on," she gritted out as her hands found their place again. She pushed down. "Come on, Bellamy." She counted almost frantically as her body went through the motions.

When she bent down again to breathe him back to life, his lips caught hers and he held her there for a second.

Clarke froze, and her heartbeat increased its speed, which had seemed impossible before. She moved away, fell on her ass as she stared at the lines of his face. At the shape of his jaw, at the freckles dotted across his nose and cheeks like an unexplored galaxy.

When he pulled her back into his arms she couldn't stop muttering his name. "Bell," she started again, as if praying to the universe. Bellamy's lips swallowed the rest of his name before she could finish worshipping at Fate's altar for returning him to her. Infinity seemed within her grasp now.

When the world caught up with them again, Clarke opened her eyes and smiled gently, a little broken at the thought of losing Bellamy to the cruelty of this Earth too.

"Thanks Princess."

She pushed against his shoulder for the old nickname as she hiccupped through her tears. "Don't-" she said when he reached for her. When Clarke realised they'd had an audience all along, she saw that Octavia was now crawling towards Bellamy, her eyes slowly losing their fear. Miller shook his head at the two of them with a wicked grin on his face.

Clarke crawled back to her feet and tried to find her composure again, even if all she could think about was how she wanted to crawl back and explore every freckle on his face with butterfly kisses. "We need to go."


End file.
